Unexpected
by Hawk wing
Summary: His hallucinations are getting worse. It's not something he can tell the others, but how's he to cope while hiding such a secret?
1. Chapter 1

omg! hawk wing is back!!!! yesh i know...it's been a while. Actually, I've kind of diverted away from fanfiction altogether....that is until I got addicted to the Assassin's Creed series. The best video game series evar!!! XD And imho AC 2 is the best when it comes to gameplay lol

Anywho..... I'm tired of there not being enough assassin's creed fanfiction! -shakes fist- I've even browsed through deviantart DX So, since I'm taking another creative writing class, and I haven't written anything is almost a year (it's the truth), I figured I should get back into the grove of things a bit before my assignments. So, I took up an idea that someone had posted on deviantart (don't remember who). The idea is to take a dictionary or thesaurus and randomly open it up, and randomly (without looking) point at a word on the page. Whatever word you point at, you have to use. No synonyms no nothing. You have to use that word. Thus, this lil baby was born. I'm kind of surprised how easy it was to slip into writing again. Man i've missed it, and the evil lil furballs called plot bunnies. Although the bunny that spawned this was nice and quiet lol

Note: the three random dots (...) are a time break or whatever you want to call it

Note 2: takes place a lil after AC 2

Dis: me no own. i wouldn't have been able to come up with such diverse and individual personalities such as Atlair's and Ezio's...although maybe shaun's lmao

* * *

_Inexpert: adj. not expert; unskilled_

He couldn't handle it anymore. Things were blurring too much to be able to discern a difference. It didn't help that he no longer jumped at their spontaneous appearances. That's probably what unnerved him the most. But now… Now things had finally crossed the line. A simple coffee run turned into him having a conversation with a guard from Acre while others looked on. A psychiatrist would be able to tell from a mile away that he was schizophrenic, when, in all actuality, it was the bleeding effect from the Animus.

Desmond kept seeing the hallucinations more often than not, and they were starting to blend into modern life. It's not normal to see a Saracen guard walking through the heart of a 21st century city, yet there he was, sword half drawn and walking through the crowd without a care. Everyone just calmly passed him by as well. It wasn't until Rebecca, who was with him in case Abstergo found them, had asked him what he was looking at that he realized the illusions were becoming far too real. No longer were they shaded figures, but fully fleshed and colored appearances, or so it seemed to him. He's never tried to touch one of the visions before.

But the others didn't know. They shouldn't know. Desmond knew they would be worried, that their plans would change dramatically to work around the mirages. He knew they would try to keep him out of action and not hunting for the other pieces of Eden. Research wasn't his strong point either, not that Shaun would've let him help at all. No, he had to keep this little problem quiet, even though the problems liked to talk to him.

...

Lucy pulled onto the dirt path. The Camry shook along its well-worn ruts. For twenty minutes they had been travelling a gravel road, and now this? Desmond glanced over at her.

"Why exactly are we coming out to the middle of BFE again?"

"I told you, you need to continue your training."

"And what was wrong with the little obstacle course you like to force me through at that warehouse of yours? And shouldn't we be out looking for the Pieces of Eden?"

She glanced at him. "Shaun and Rebecca are handling the search, and we have some teams already scouting the areas around some possible locations. But all of this would be a waste if you were to die from a lack of training. That obstacle course is child's play, and you know as well as I do that you've long since outgrown it."

"So, what's out here?" he motioned out the window at the forest.

"An old training ground," was all she answered.

Desmond merely raised an eyebrow at her and resumed his bored watch out the window. He knew pressuring her would only make her irritated, thus resulting in more strenuous training for him.

Minutes after boring sets of minutes passed, as well as curves, seriously deep pot-holes, and an occasional horse and rider, although Desmond was the only one to experience the latter. He didn't even jump, let alone blink, when one would appear running along with the car through the trees. Hell, he didn't know what unnerved him more: the fleeting second where he thought of the scene as natural, or the instant wariness and tensing of shoulders as his ancestors had done when confronting such scenes on the trail.

Lucy slowed and rounded a final curve that brought a small lake into view. Desmond stared out into it.

"Please tell me you don't have a giant octopus living in there," he groaned.

She cast him a bewildered, almost laughing, look. "No, what makes you ask that?"

"Remember Ezio in that last assassin tomb?"

"Oh." She then chuckled. "No, you're safe this time. Although it is a good idea for next time."

Desmond stared at her. "You're kidding right?"

She ignored him and got out of the car. He followed suit and looked back out at the water.

Spread out in various places were posts, narrow two-rope bridges, horizontal poles, islands, and other means of crossings. It looked like something from an assassin's tomb, just miniaturized to fit an over-sized pond.

After glancing it over – and groaning inwardly – Desmond instinctively started taking in the surroundings.

"So, who built this?"

Lucy walked over and leaned against the car beside him. "Other assassins that used to be in this area. It hasn't been used in years though."

"Are the ropes new or…?"

"Nope, but they seem to be in decent shape."

He gaped at her. "What the hell! They "seem to be in decent shape?""

She sternly looked up at him. "Not everything you'll come across in the field will be brand new, Desmond."

He sighed. "I know. I can't hope for too much, huh."

"No, now get going."

He rolled his eyes and walked toward the pond, scanning the course quickly and looked for the easiest paths. "So, what's the object?"

"Get from the blue pole to the red one," she responded.

The red one was a quarter of a mile away and on the other side of the complex maze.

"Great," he muttered and jumped out to a horizontal pole, quickly pulling himself up and launching towards a post.

Although both Ezio and Altaїr were fast at such courses, and Desmond could fly through the cities – well as humanly possible within both ancestors' capabilities – in the animus, in real life it was a different story. He just couldn't quite get the balancing down on some things. For instance: the narrow two-rope bridge that he just came up to. Ezio was a pro at them. Desmond was a different story. He calmed his jittering nerves the best he could, took a breath, lowered himself to a crouch, and attempted to crawl the same way across as Ezio did in Italy.

Half way across. Half way across and he felt the sense of satisfaction want to take hold, but he held it back. It was only half way after all. As long as he didn't lose his concentration… or look up quickly at the white flash.

Desmond instantly lost his balance and no matter what attempt he tried, he couldn't regain it and the pond greeted him instead. Breaching the surface, he glared over at the area the flash came from and, for once, his heart skipped in shock. Even though he was quite aware it was just merely a hallucination, he never expected to see Altaїr during waking hours, let alone sitting on a tree branch calmly watching him.

"Desmond! Hurry up and start over!" Lucy called from the shore.

He glanced at her then back at his stoic ancestor still perched in the tree before swimming back to the beginning.

...

All in all, it took him four tries to reach the red pole. Four tries with an ever watchful Altaїr quietly looking on throughout it all. He was soaked to the bone and shivering, but he made it nonetheless. Lucy had a bit of a grim expression on her face as she looked up at him.

"You're going to need a lot more training. I thought reliving Ezio's life had helped more than it apparently has."

"Hey! I wouldn't have even been able to do any of that before Ezio," he retorted.

"True, but we're going to be coming here until you can clear this in less than eight minutes." She turned on her heels and walked back to the car.

He stared in horror at her back. "Eight minutes! It took me nearly thirty to get over here!"

She ignored him.

Grumbling, he jumped off into the water and swam to shore. For the very reason she said it had to be eight minutes, he figured getting her car seat soaked was as good as payback as he'll get. Climbing out, he looked appreciatively at the water running in tumults down him.

"A novice would have had no trouble clearing such a child's course."

Desmond jumped and looked at the nearest tree. Altaїr was calmly crouched on the lowest branch, staring nonchalantly down at him.

"Say what?" he asked, shocked.

"You are clearly inexpert and need more training. I do not see why she wastes her time with you if all you do is complain."

Desmond felt his jaw drop. Altaїr – _the_ Altaїr – was insulting him! No, even worse, a hallucination was insulting him.

"Oh, so now you're going to dis me as well?"

Desmond caught the twitch of an eyebrow at the slang word, but Altaїr quickly hid that. Brief as the look of confusion was, he still saw it. That had to account for something because a normal person wouldn't have seen that.

"It was no insult but merely an observation."

He threw his hands up in defeat and turned to follow Lucy.

"Lean forward more and you won't lose your balance so easily."

Desmond stopped and looked back. "What?"

"When you walk the ropes, you lean too far back on your heels. Lean forward more to balance your weight," Altaїr calmly explained.

Desmond's jaw fell slightly once again. His ancestor, of all people, was the last person he expected advice from.

"Desmond! What are you looking at?" Lucy called.

He looked over at her. "Nothing. Just thought I saw a deer."

"Well, hurry up!"

" 'kay!" He looked back at the tree but Altaїr had disappeared. Shaking his head, he ran back to the car. Lucy started grumbling about his soaked clothing and how he shouldn't have fallen in the water as much as he had. He only smirked and climbed into the passenger seat, looking out the window for his ancestor, but didn't see him.

* * *

I might continue this...but idk. Depends on how many furballs strike on this idea lol For now, hope you enjoyed this....rambling lol


	2. Chapter 2

-is shocked speechless- I wasn't expecting reviews on this story! let alone asking for a continuation lol I was kind of wanting to continue this story when i finished typing the first chapter, but i was like 'meh' and decided to leave it as is (my lazy bumness showing there lol). Boy was I wrong lmao So, y'all asked for it and here it is...i guess. Although this chapter is a lil dull. it's a transitional/setting up chapter dang it!! -shakes fist- BUT!!! I will warn you now, this story isn't going to go how you guys expect it. I like twists :3 And I don't plan for this to be a long story either. 10 chapters tops. I don't eve think it'll get to 10 chapters lol and another warning!! writer's blocks XD lol I have this story outlined...it's just transitioning to get to where i want it to go creates those blocks lol I suck at transitions. And i'm also a college student so cut me some slack ^_^

AND NO THERE WON'T BE ANY SLASH/YAOI i have nothing against those stories, it's jus i'm saying that now so u guys won't be bummed when there is no yaoi lol

And do you realize how hard it was to type up this chapter!?!? When i wrote chapter 1, i was strangely thinking in big words and that writing style isn't my normal. I tried something new in it too. Normally when i write in third person i like to include a view into at least one character's thoughts, but this time i wanted to stray away from taht and see how it went. So when i went to type up chapter two...it took me a bit to get my thinking straight and into big word mode as well as curbing my impulse to input thoughts. Personally, i think i like this way of writing lmao

Another thing: looking at the traffic that read/at least looked at this story, there have been visitors from all countries my ancestors came from XD lmao random i know, but i thought it was a lil ironic/interesting/funny lol

Without further ado, here's the story...wait...need the disclaimer: i no computer genius! so me no create the game!! i don't have the creativity to have accomplished such a thing anyways XD lol

* * *

Pond. That's all he could smell was pond, and maybe some of his own sweat mixed in with a hint of Italian. A couple of hours in the training room, no matter how sparse it was, could take out plenty of pent up aggression, not that he had any right now. He was a bit surprised, however, that no hallucinations interrupted, joined, or just passed through while he was laying into a straw covered wood doll. It wasn't long after his little work-out that supper arrived. Carry out Italian Shaun ordered from a restaurant across town. But the others wouldn't let him join them at the table.

"Your very stench will curdle a cow's milk while it's still in her udders," Shaun had remarked.

Sighing, Desmond threw his damp towel onto the floor.

"And don't even think about sitting on your bed sheets, or you're going to be washing them tomorrow. I don't want to walk by your room and smell that," he had motioned at Desmond in general, " wafting out."

Finally clean and pond-smelling free, he dropped across his bed, sighing at the pleasure of his sore muscles relaxing. The heat from the extra hot shower was still present, and fought against the air conditioning, but he was too tired to even move under the covers.

...

The night's cool breath was starting to burn his lungs. He wanted to run faster, but the dew on the roof tiles hindered him, testing his steps, trying to get him to fall the three stories to the ground. There were a few times he almost did as the slick roof and the arrow wound in his thigh conspired together. Cursing, he searched for the nearest ladder or foothold or something so he would be able to reach the ground and run faster.

Shattering broke through the night as another guard slipped and fell off the roof behind him. He didn't pause to listen for a thud. He had no time. The mission had been a success, but at a steep price - one that would get steeper if he didn't run faster.

There, two roofs to his right. A ladder. Finally. Ezio banked hard to his right, but lost his momentum as his leg gave out for a slight second. That was a second he couldn't have spared. Staggering, panting, wincing, he forced himself forward, his mind completely blank as instinct took over and flew him there.

Sliding to a halt, he flung himself over the edge and nearly fell down the ladder. Dropping the final rungs, his leg giving out once more, he turned and took off through the shadows. An assassin he may be, but white on a full moon's night was like orange in a room of black.

"Assassino!"

He groaned and shot into an alley. Each curve sent him deeper and deeper through the city. This was one of the rare alleys he hadn't explored. If he had, he would've known about the baker storing old crates right outside his back door. Or about the housewife's trash thrown out for the night. Each one he ran into. Each one jarred his wounds, staining the white of the shirt a deeper crimson. Each one brought the guards closer. But that wasn't the only thing he would've known had he explored this little known back alley.

Ezio ran around the corner and slammed into the dead end. Searching the sides frantically, he limped from wall to wall looking for anything to send him up and over.

"No."

Smooth.

"No."

Blank.

"No, no, no!"

Solid. He was trapped. A mouse in a trap would fair far better than he was about to. At least it had cheese for the minute second before death. All he had were his hidden blades, two poison viles, sword, knife, and a quickly weakening body from the various wounds that graced it. Ezio turned and drew his sword.

Two figures rounded the bend in front of him. Lunging, he clipped one's arm as the other tried to slice his back. Ezio spun and slammed his hidden blade into the man's abdomen. One down, one injured, and four more now reinforcing with numerous more coming.

Ezio backed off and raised his sword slowly, defiantly.

Desmond shot up, fear and adrenaline racing through his veins, but there were no guards in front of him. Only the knife he had a death grip on, poised and ready to kill. Taking in deeper, calming breaths, he lowered the knife and rubbed his face. Ever since he had been forced to relive Altaїr's life, he had never once slept without any kind of sharp object under his pillow, ready to be grabbed and sent through flesh. Nightmares, such as the one he just suffered, didn't help one bit. If Rebecca hadn't have been a trained assassin, she might've lost her nose, or worse, her life when she tried to wake him after one such dream. The insecurity that sleep gave was another slight effect that bled over from Altaїr.

Desmond glanced down at the innocent piece of metal. It gleamed in the forgotten ceiling light. He must've fallen asleep with it on. It wasn't the first time.

"If you meditate before sleeping-"

Desmond slammed the knife back into the air and nearly launched it.

Altaїr merely sat unmoving in the corner, his eyes meeting Desmond's.

"Altaїr, god, don't do that!" he huffed. "You scared the shit out of me."

"If you had not have been sleeping so heavily, you would have heard me. A trained assassin always keeps his guard up, even in sleep," the man chided.

"Yeah, well, I've had a long day."

"You claim to be an assassin, and yet at your age you are still easily worn out from a simple obstacle course and training session?"

Desmond could easily see the downgrading look Altaїr was shooting without even looking at the man. "Yeah, well, I wasn't planning to be an assassin," Desmond muttered. "Why else would I run away?"

Altaїr merely ignored him. "As I was saying, before your lack of training tried to kill me – not that your pathetic throw would have even came close to me – if you meditate and clear your mind before sleeping, it will keep you from suffering nightmares."

"Yeah, and you would know how?" Desmond shot back. Waking up from a bad dream and then having a hallucination scaring the shit out of you wasn't exactly a cup of morning coffee.

Altaїr's face went even more impassive. "I know far more than you ever will, novice," he growled then disappeared.

"Argh! Great! Now I've pissed of my ancestor. Great work there Desmond," he snapped.

Rubbing his face harshly, he peered through his fingers at the clock. 4:07 AM.

"Ugh, you've got to be kidding me."

...

"Desmond!" Lucy banged on the door. "C'mon, it's almost ten! Get up."

He groaned and rolled over. "Five more minutes mom."

"I'm not your mother, but I will throw a bucket of ice on you if you don't get up in five."

He didn't hear her stalk away from the door – after all she only wore heels as a part of her image at Abstergo – but he could easily picture that irritated mother like look she always wore in boss mode.

"Hasn't she ever heard of sleeping in?" he grumbled. "Ten's still too early."

"You're sleeping the day away. Get up lazy bones!"

Desmond froze, eyes staring at the blank wall across from him.

"I can tell by how you're tensed that I know you heard me, now get up! It's a beautiful day out and you shouldn't ruin it by making women mad. You'll be cursed with bad luck for days to come if you do."

He slowly turned his head and sure enough, with his hands on his hips, his trademark smirk, and his fancy beard, Ezio stood near the corner of his bed smiling at him.

"Ezio? What are you doing here?"

The man shrugged. "Well, someone's got to keep an eye on you and give you advice, but you've gone and made Altaїr mad. Not a wise decision, my friend. So, I'm here for the time being. And you should put that away before you hurt someone." He pointed at the knife still clutched in Desmond's fist.

He blushed faintly and shoved it back under his pillow. Sitting up slowly, he stared at his other ancestor. It had to be his hallucinations. That had to be it, but first Altaїr, and now Ezio? Standing plain as day in his room nonetheless, and talking to him like any other comrade too.

"What? Do I have something on me?" The man looked down at his armor.

His hallucinations were definitely getting worse.

"This has got to be another bad dream," he groaned.

Ezio chuckled. "It's definitely a bad dream if it's just me in it and all the women are mad at you like the one that was at your door. And once again there."

His door slammed open and Rebecca walked in, smirking like a demon and lifting a bucket up high.

"Wait wait wait! I'm up! I'm up! Don't you dare do that!" Desmond yelled, holding his hands up.

She pouted and dropped the bucket to the floor. "Aww, and here I was looking forward to dumping this on you."

"Yes, why did you have to go and ruin the fun, Desmond?" Shaun called from the doorway.

"What the-!" He gaped at the three around his door. "It hasn't even been five minutes!"

"So?" Rebecca laughed.

"Man, and the highlight of my day was ruined. Thank you, Desmond. Now I must return to the ever waiting slave driver called a computer. Goody." The historian stalked away grumpily.

Rebecca slouched out, deflated, while Lucy merely gave him the I-told-you-so look and turned away down the hall. Desmond stared at the door in disbelief and turned to comment to Ezio, but the man was gone.

* * *

short, i know, but hey, i'm the writer so XP lol

And there's a reason why i called Ezio's beard "fancy." While I was playing assassin's creed 2 and they jumped to memory 14 (you kno the last memory), I was shocked that Ezio had a beard! I was like omg! he hash a fanshy beard!! And so when we had to climb the wall outside the Sistine Chapel, I kept falling into the water (I suck at climbing both in games and in real life XD lol). My dad was getting a lil irked i kept falling into the water so i was like "Shaddup!! I'm warshing his fancy beard!!" lmao and yes the R in warshing is purposeful. We add R's to wash in the redneck accent. so a dishwasher is pronounced dishwarsher; warshing machine; warshed; Warshington; etc lmao We like to add R's lol And what's bad is when the foreign exchange pick up that accent. Our last exchange student was from japan and she REALLY picked that up. She always said "warsh" and all it's variations, and she even said "idear" (instead of "idea") and even i don't say "idear" lmao (and i also got her saying "hell no!" XD bad me ^^; lmao) Our german exchange never really caught onto the redneck accent though lol

and yes, like i said, boring chapter, but like i also said...it's a transitional chapter

OH! a note on Ezio. there won't be any random italian sentences/phrases in this story! The only italian i know was learned from the game and that's "merda" and "stupello" (i think that last word is right. i don't fully remember lmao) So no italian! Sorry! I don't wanna murder the language with my ignorance.


	3. Chapter 3

Hey look! An update! XD -is shot- annnnyways...i just got done typing this up ^_^ Typed it up as a break between college homework (why does college homework involve a LOT of reading? DX ) lol

But! there is one thing that I learned that involves assassin's creed. Any history majors (or dedicated AC fans) will already know this. For those who don't, well now you will lmao So, I was doing my world history homework (which involves just reading 30-some pages that are boring and in size 10 pt font DX ). Now, I would've known this info, that I'm about to share, if my freakin world history teacher from the first class (our world history class is divided into 3 segments over 3 semesters) hadn't have skipped 2 chapters from the book!! -shakes fist- The first book of covers from Paleolithic times up to 1200 AD. What were the two chapters he skipped??? The renewal of Christianity in Europe including the Crusades, as well as the rise of the Islamic caliphates. So, I was reading the chapter over the Mongol take over in the second book, and one little line shocked the hell out of me. It said as follow:

"A Shi'ite scholar named Nasir al-Din Tusi (nah-SEER ad-DEEN TOO-si) represents the beginning of Mongol interest in the scientific traditions of the Muslim lands. Nasir al-Din may have joined the entourage of Hulegu during a campaign in 1256 against the Assassins, a Shi'ite religious sect derived from the Fatimid dynasty in Egypt and at odds with his more mainstream Shi'ite views." (The Earth and Its Peoples Volume B: From 1200 to 1870. Bulliet, Crossley, Headrick, Hirsch, Johnson, Northrup. Page 348)

Now, I knew that the creators of Assassin's Creed had done some seriously extensive research, but i figured that the assassins were basically added in to spice up the story. Nope! Wrong again! I was like 'holy shit!!!!' lmao So now, when i find the time, i'm going to go back to that first book and read the two chapters that were skipped. But, I figured i'd share that lil tidbit of info cuz it shocked the hell outta me. lol

dis: not mine. Ubisoft's. Man they did a lot of research

* * *

Three days. That's how long Altaїr's been gone. His advice on how to cross the ropes was helpful, though. The day after he had been given that advice, Lucy had dragged him back to the pond, but this time he only fell off once. Of course the woman was pissed again because it was her car seat that would be getting wet once more, but it wasn't entirely his fault. Ezio had thrown a rock at him while he was crossing a rope bridge and he had instinctively dodged it, only to lose his balance and fall. The older man enjoyed the show, laughing, and Desmond desperately wanted to throttle and yell at him, was even about to, until he remembered that Ezio was far more skilled than he was. Then he remembered that the man was merely a figment of his imagination. His heart stopped for a second at the realization. Lucy didn't see it, but fear crossed his face in the blink of an eye. For that brief moment, he had thought Ezio was real.

Afterwards, Desmond tried to ignore him, like he did the random beggar or Templar, but Ezio just didn't shut up. He was a constant bubble of chatter and happiness. Desmond tried quietly chewing the man's ass, seeing if that would get him to leave like it did Altaїr, but it only earned him a chewing instead that made him feel guilty as all get out. Curse relatives and their guilt trips. Desmond had then muttered a quiet apology, and Ezio was all cheerful and calm again.

But Ezio wasn't there all the time. Desmond was granted moments of peace - sometimes while he was with the others, which he was grateful for, and sometimes while he was alone. Ezio had grown on him – his constant chatter and advice calmed his nerves, like being with an older brother.

Last night Ezio had been gone for a few hours and the silence was deafening, not to mention boring. Rebecca was upgrading the Animus, Lucy and Shaun were working on research and checking up on the teams in the field. Desmond was stuck by himself, bored as hell. He tried killing time by playing video games, but those got old quickly. He was literally resorted to counting bumps on the ceiling of his room when Ezio popped back in and started laughing at him right away. That pissed Desmond off and they started bickering, ending with laughing at each other.

As he lay in bed that night, he realized that the line between reality and imagination was blurring far too quickly. He thought he could keep the hallucinations under control, that they wouldn't get out of hand. But clearly that wasn't the case. He was losing, the visions were winning.

That mindset remained when he woke up the next morning. Ezio greeted him cheerily, but he ignored him. The older man took it as another one of Desmond's jokes and followed him into the kitchen.

"Oh, he rises from the dead far earlier than normal! Hell must have frozen over," Shaun jabbed.

"Nope, I was kicked out to grace you with my presence," Desmond replied, smirking.

"I'm ever so honored." The historian did a mocking bow in his seat.

"You should be." He grabbed a glass and poured himself some orange juice.

"There won't be any training today," Lucy announced, looking up from her bowl.

"Why not?"

"There's been a bit of a problem and one of our teams has been injured," she answered.

"Oh, so that's why Rebecca's not in here?"

She nodded and put her now empty bowl in the sink.

"Yo, my turn for breakfast!" Rebecca declared smiling from the doorway. "And Des, I've got the Animus ready if you want to jump into Ezio's memories for training today."

He looked up and nearly threw his glass next to her, but Ezio beat him to it. He had spotted the Templar – dressed in the full armor from Altaїr's time – right before him and lunged at the man, slamming one of his hidden blades into his throat. They both dropped, Ezio leaning over him murmuring "Rest in peace."

"What?" Rebecca asked. All three of them were staring cautiously at Desmond.

He shook his head. "Nothing, sorry."

"It was a hallucination, wasn't it?" Lucy asked calmly.

He paused in raising his glass, then sighed. "Yeah. Just a Templar in full armor about to lop off Rebecca's head before Ez – Altaїr jumped him. That's all."

"How long did it last?" She was all business and quietly assessing him.

He calmly looked over at her. "Less than ten seconds."

They held gazes and he never wavered, keeping his face innocent.

Lucy sighed. "Good. If it gets any worse, tell me right away." She walked out the door and headed back to the computers to check up on the injured team.

"Was there really a Templar aiming for my head?" Rebecca asked.

Desmond nodded, wondering why no one noticed his near slip up. They probably did but let it slide.

"Weird," the girl said and pulled out a few slices of bread.

"I'll go check the building for more Templars," Ezio said, standing by the doorway.

Desmond looked over and saw the man had his assassin mask on and merely gave a slight nod. He couldn't respond out loud with the others around, and ignoring him would've made his ancestor pissed when he was like this.

"You keep your guard up. I'll be back soon."

"Desmond!"

He jumped and looked over at Rebecca. "What?"

She raised her eyebrow. "Another hallucination, or the same one?"

"Different one. It's kind of weird seeing a horse in the middle of a kitchen doorway," he said giving a faint smile. A lie, but if he didn't answer they would've gotten suspicious. He couldn't say it was the same one because it had been over a minute since Lucy left.

Rebecca snorted. "I'd bet. Anyways, I asked if you wanted some toast too?" She held up the bag.

"Yeah, sure."

She put a couple pieces in the other two slots for him and shoved them down. "You know, I think it'd probably be best if you didn't use the Animus for a while."

He chuckled and muttered: "Yeah, I think I shouldn't too."

...

Ezio sank down onto the couch beside him with a sigh. "There was one more outside, but he's taken care of now."

Desmond skidded his car around the corner. He was in first place and close to beating Rebecca's previously set record.

"You're not going to make it," Ezio stated.

"Yes I am."

"No, you're not."

"Am to."

He passed over the checkered line, held his breath for the time, and cursed loudly when it came up.

Ezio laughed. "I told you."

"You distracted me, that's what it was!" Desmond said.

"Oh I distracted you?" Ezio demanded. "No, my friend, I believe your own pathetic skills were the ones to curse you."

"Nope, it was you," Desmond replied.

"Alright, prove it to me. Rerun this race and I'll remain silent. If you still can't beat it, then you have to admit it's your own pathetic skills," the man said with a smirk.

"You're on."

The counter blinked 'Go!' and Desmond shot his car forward. He maneuvered to the head of the pack by the second lap. He flew over the checkered line and into the third lap. Each turn streamed by and he expertly held his car in control. The finish quickly came up and he held his breath as he crossed it. The time blinked onto the screen.

"Ha!" he shouted and pointed at Ezio. "I told you."

"It was by .1 of a second," the other replied.

"So, I still beat it."

"By pure luck!"

"Nope, pure skill."

"Yeah yeah. Whatever you say, but I won't believe it until you prove it by beating Rebecca's record on a new track. Until then, you won by luck only."

Desmond flipped through the track choices and picked one of the last ones. He had been racing on one track repeatedly until he beat Rebecca's record before moving on to another track. The countdown flashed up and he slammed on the gas. First place was quickly his as he slid through each tight turn. A straightaway came up, bordered by the city on one side and the ocean on the other.

"North," Ezio stated.

"What?"

"Next turn is north."

"Straight?" Desmond asked.

"No, North."

"But I am going North!"

"No you're-"

Desmond saw the dead end pop up and tried to make the sharp turn, but his car flipped, ending his race.

"I told you North," Ezio said smugly.

"You!" He threw a pillow at Ezio who merely dodged it. "Who's driving here?" he growled.

Ezio laughed. "I don't know, but whoever it is isn't much of a driver."

"You asshole!" Desmond shouted and threw another pillow.

Ezio dodged again, laughing loudly.

* * *

Normally i don't like putting in epic length author notes lmao but the info in the top note up there really did shock the hell outta me. And did you know that Mandarin is actually Mongolian-influenced Chinese that came about in the 13th century under the Yuan Empire???


	4. Chapter 4

How to confuse my poor little mind in 2 easy steps:

1) Put lotion on my hands that smells ever so deliciously like pumpkin pie.  
2) Eat breadsticks, preferrably the kind from Olive Garden.

My poor little brain - via my nose - thinks I should be eating something soft with lots of flavor and with whip cream on top, but my mouth says 'nope ur eatin something flavorless and slightly stiff.' It really does confuse my brain lmao

dis: me no own

* * *

"Yo, I'm going to go for a jog," Desmond announced from the doorway.

Lucy was the only one to look up. "What's your route?"

"The normal: head east for ten blocks and cut into the park, run a few trails there, and then come back."

She nodded and looked back down at the computer. "Make sure to get back before sundown, and take your hidden blade too."

"Got it." He revealed part of the leather armband hidden under his sleeve then walked down the hall.

He'd always been easily susceptible to cabin fever, even as a kid. The time in Abstergo's custody had nearly driven him insane with restlessness, not that he let it show. Even now, that restlessness was still a well kept secret. When one of them had inquired about him always out running, he just merely replied with an "I'm getting back into shape." That always satisfied them.

Desmond stepped out into the warm evening air, breathing deeply. His long sleeved shirt would draw attention to himself, he knew that, but with city life, the people would just glance over him and forget him all together. He'd have preferred wearing a T-shirt, but it was easier to hide weapons under the baggier – albeit thinner – long sleeved shirt. After double checking the small knife harness strapped to his waist was tight, he took off at a fast clip down the empty road.

Their warehouse was on a side alley mixed in with other warehouses. At this time of day, not to mention this time of the week, no one was around. Even the hallucinations were leaving him in peace. That allowed him to create an obstacle course of his own with the trash, fencings, pallet-mountains, and box trucks.

Desmond quickened his pace as a six foot chain-link fence appeared around the corner. He jumped up it and easily flung himself over. Landing, he launched himself full speed towards the pickup truck right in front of him and cleared the bed with only an extra push by his hands to get him safely over the side. He hurtled over the iron barrels on the other side and landed quietly in the middle. There he paused and peered over, looking at the warehouse at the other end of the perimeter and noting camera positions. Two cameras were on each corner facing each side. The short end of the rectangular building was facing him, its doors sealed shut. Pointing down at the top of the doorway was another camera meant to capture intruders' faces. The longer side was almost parallel with his position. In the middle of it, where the roof met the wall, was another camera facing directly out. In between him was a sparse ground unfit for thieves – or novice assassins such as himself.

There was only one other hiding spot between him and the path in the middle of the yard, and that was another grouping of barrels. The roadway down the middle of the yard went directly to the warehouse doors and was wide enough for large box trucks. On the other side of that, directly across from him, were more barrels – some elevated above the others by pallets. After that: nothing but open space until the side of the warehouse. The camera blind spots were in between them – but only up close – and underneath them. That meant he would be caught in one of them as he ran across the road, and then in the corner of it again as he darted to the building. But once he made it there, free range. He could easily skim along the wall's edge and up over the other fence. The only challenge was to run fast enough to be caught in only three seconds of shooting while keeping the light fabric of his hood from flying off his head.

He ducked back down and grinned at the challenge. Desmond reached back, drew the thin fabric low over his face and crouched low – ready to spring up and over. Once he had calmed his breathing, he launched and ran.

One Mississippi.

The first cluster of barrels came and went.

Two Mississippi.

The road flew past and he pushed himself harder.

Three Missi-

The second cluster of barrels came and went.

-ssippi.

He stopped a few centimeters away from the wall and looked up at the two cameras, panting slightly while grinning broadly. He had beaten his previous record of 3.5 seconds. Chuckling quietly, he jogged silently along the edge and lunged over the fence, taking off at a dead sprint after clearing it to get out of line of the other camera.

The park was nearly empty. There were a few joggers, walkers, and photographers wandering about, but it was large enough that many of the smaller paths were all his. He kept his hood up as he jogged along them. Yeah it made him look like a creepy mugger, but that was better than being recognized right off by any Abstergo worker.

A few dirt paths branched off into the trees and brush. They led to areas that had been built up for bikers to jump their bikes with. Desmond jogged along until he found the path that led to his favorite dirt mound haven. It was marked by a simple bench beside it. He turned down it, the shrubbery enclosing him in semi-silence – no matter where you went in the city you'd always be able to hear the cars. The dirt hills loomed up in front of him after a few minutes and he sprinted up the side of the closest one.

Running up and down them had always been a good way to develop balance while sprinting over uncertain terrain. It's not like buildings barely surpassed four stories anymore like they did in Altaїr and Ezio's time. Besides, if he tried running over the roofs of houses, people would call the cops which would bring Abstergo. Nope, it was best to practice here.

...

Panting, he slid down the last hill and walked back up the path towards the cemented ones of the park. At this pace, he'd have at least five minutes to regain his breath before having to jog back to the warehouse.

A piercing clang behind him made him jump forward and swing around.

Altaїr stood with his back to him, his sword locked against a Templar's. "Get out of here!"

Desmond turned to run, but a Templar had snuck up on him and was swinging his sword down. He fell back and it grazed his left shoulder. The old, yet familiar feeling of metal slicing through skin greeted him.

He landed on his back and rolled to his left, ignoring the pain the best he could, and shot up with his hidden blade drawn. The Templar went to block his attack, as Desmond had expected, and he turned his body sideways letting the guard's momentum cause him to lose his balance. Desmond took advantage of the brief opening and slammed the blade into the side of the man's neck. Warm blood spurted out, covering his hand, as the guard fell off his blade, dead.

The adrenaline spike barely took the edge off of the pain coming from the slice in his shoulder. He looked down at it and winced.

"No time to stare and cry, novice," Altaїr called.

He looked up at him and saw his bloodied sword.

"Run. I will stay behind you and protect your back. Now go!"

Desmond obeyed and took off at a controlled sprint. He didn't know how he'd get back with the blood unnoticed, but he'd have to find a way.

...

The warehouse doors came into view and he slowed down to a jog. Sprinting all this way had caused more blood than normal to seep from the shoulder wound. A few times he had glanced over his shoulder to look for Altaїr, but didn't see him. He was grateful that, even though it had only been three days, the old man wasn't mad enough to leave him on his own in such a situation. Desmond slowed and punched the code into the key pad. The door buzzed open and he slipped inside, quietly shutting the door behind him.

No one was in sight, so they were either in the kitchen or in the Animus room. He wrapped his arm up in the bottom of his sweater, to prevent blood from dripping on the floor, and jogged silently upstairs - glad he didn't have to worry about a sword sheath clanking against his side like his ancestors did. Up the stairs, down the left hall, turn right, pass through the second door and his room was the last one down the small hall behind it. He had made it without anyone catching him.

Desmond leaned against the back of his door for a brief second before leaning down and dragging out the medical box under his bed. He peeled his shirt slowly off of his wound and threw the ruined material on the floor and opened the box. With shaking hands, he pulled out gauze, bandages, and Hydrogen peroxide.

"Here, let me help." Ezio reached down and stilled Desmond's shaking hands.

He looked up into the man's calm face.

"Sit down so I can properly clean your wound."

Desmond obeyed.

"Altaїr told me what happened," he continued quietly. "He also said you killed one of them too."

"Efficiently, but had he been paying attention more, he would not have obtained such a wound," Altaїr said from his place leaning against the wall.

Desmond stared between the two. "I thought you guys couldn't touch me? I thought none of the hallucinations could."

Ezio paused and raised an eyebrow. "Hallucinations? What are you talking about?"

"Well…" He didn't get to finish.

"There is no time for talk. We have to leave. Now," Altaїr quipped.

"What?" Desmond asked, astonished. "What do you mean we have to leave? As in Lucy and the others too?"

"No, they will be fine as long as you leave this place. As we speak, they are searching for you and are getting closer. This position is nearly compromised," Altaїr answered.

"If you leave, you can draw them away from the others," Ezio added in while still bandaging up his shoulder.

Desmond stared between the two, not believing a single word. They were merely hallucinations. Images from his screwed up head. But a hallucination had injured him, and another was patching him up. The pain from his shoulder was very, very real.

He sighed as Ezio taped the final side of the gauze down. "Fine. Where should I go?"

* * *

Now, before anyone says "hallucinations can't touch real life stupid!!!11!1!oneoneone" I'm going to answer that right here, right now:

keep reading until the end of the story. Your questions will be answered then and there -evil, mischievous laugh-

and this story is going to end here soon (told ya less than 10 chapters lmao). But just be patient with the updates. I have a shit load of homework DX lol


	5. Chapter 5

Final chapter ^_^

I have a shit-load of homework to do, but after working on my homework for a bit, my attention span went bye bye so I worked on this for the rest of the day. And did you know that these chapters are unedited (asides from a read through by me to check if they're somewhat smooth and wording makes sense lol)? There's ya a lil trivia tidbit lmao

dis: me no own. I'm too lazy to do the research that went into just AC1 itself DX lol

* * *

Desmond slipped farther back into the shadow of night's veil. The alleyway was teeming with crazies. Their muffled, incoherent language was echoing around the corner to where he leaned against the rough brick. He grimaced and slammed his head against the wall.

"What the fuck are you doing, Desmond?" he cursed himself. "They just fucking hallucinations, yet here you are, obeying your dead ancestor's orders. I should've just told Lucy about this."

A half naked crazy stumbled around the corner and noticed him. The man lunged at Desmond, who just stood there calmly. They collided and Desmond instinctively kicked the man off of him and backed away, holding his jarred shoulder.

"Ok, if they're just a figment of my imagination, then how in the hell did that just happen?"

The crazy turned around and walked back the way he came while mumbling louder in his panic.

"Fuck, this can't be happening."

Desmond rubbed his face hard and glanced around the corner, making sure no other psychos were coming towards him. He counted a total of five weaving in between him and the road before leaning back against the wall and gently pulling his shirt away from his shoulder.

Blood soaked the gauze stripping and some even slipped out from its catch and down his side. He sighed and let the thin material fall back against his bandaging. The streets at either end of the L-shaped alley were silent. Altaїr's orders of hiding in the crowd could only last so long until even the street life slept. Once that happened, the only nightlife in a downtown metropolis were gangs and cops, both of which Desmond didn't need to run into.

Another psycho came close and Desmond shifted out of his way, but to no avail. The man still freaked out and slammed against him. He stumbled back and fell into another crazy who hit him in the side. The trash covered ground was the next perpetrator to add injury to his body. He rolled right when contact was made and made it out of reach of any crazy at the moment, but they never held still, much to his dismay. Desmond skirted a third man and weaved quickly around the fourth before reaching the silent safety of the city sidewalk and orange halos.

The street and accompanying buildings were desolate, but that didn't keep him from feeling like he was being watched. He only hoped it was either Altaїr or Ezio and not Abstergo or ancient Templars. Relaxing his composure to appear nonchalant, Desmond took off at a fast clip down the sidewalk. He needed to find another hiding place and stay low until midday brought out the crowds once more. With each heartbeat, his shoulder throbbed painfully. Biting his cheek took away some of the pain, but the Tylenol had long since worn off. He rounded a corner and was hit with the decaying smell wafting along on the breeze. The city life may have allowed for easy hiding, but it sure as hell didn't smell like open fields and wildflowers during the summertime. The breeze cooled the top layer of blood on his shirt and bandages, but underneath, it was still slick and warm against his tender skin.

Even with the breeze blowing against him and blocking his hearing a fraction, Desmond still heard the whine of tires starting to slow down behind him. He remained relaxed and looking forward, but he searched for anything to hide behind if necessary, not that any of the street lamps would do much good as shields. He may have been skinny, but not a walking stick.

Headlights appeared in his peripheral vision, followed by black then white. Desmond cursed inwardly. The vehicle slowed and kept up with him as the passenger window rolled down. A red shape leaned out and spoke. Even with the visor down and muffling his words, Desmond wouldn't have been able to understand the ancient language anyways. He froze and stared at the would-be cop, wondering when cops started wearing helmets – or when Templars had learned to drive.

The man repeated himself, beady brown eyes gleaming in the orange street light.

Desmond shook his head. "Sorry man, but I don't understand you." He resumed walking, but groaned silently when he heard the car being put into park.

One Templar and he might have been able to handle himself. But two Templars? He only hoped that Altaїr and Ezio would keep their word of watching out for him and one of them come help him out. He was still technically a novice, as Altaїr had kindly pointed out.

The man repeated himself and another joined in. Desmond ignored both of them and kept walking. Car doors slammed shut. They spoke again. He continued on. A hand landed on his shoulder, as he was expecting, and he swung around and punched the knight in the diaphragm. The second one pulled out a broad knife and took a defensive stance. Desmond leaped towards him and smoothly stepped aside, kicking the man's thigh which forced him to take a knee. He unsheathed his hidden blade and thrust his arm forward, much to his wounded shoulder's complaint. But the blow never landed.

Instead, all of his muscles contracted and he fell to the ground just inches short of the Templar. Fire shot through his entire body as he writhed on the ground. The knight next to him jumped up and held his squat knife out at him once more, but at a safer distance.

"You fucking Templars!" he managed to spit out between screams.

The man with the knife grabbed a part of his own clothing near his shoulder and leaned towards it. The tasing stopped and Desmond laid there for a split second before lunging up at the man, hidden blade still loose. The strange knife extended and hit Desmond straight in the chest as another bit into his back.

Again he fell to the ground screaming.

...

"You mind telling me what you were planning on doing with these?"

The cop held up his knife harness and hidden blade.

"Nothing," Desmond replied calmly from his seat.

The man exchanged a look with the Templar standing nearby. Desmond knew now that in fact that very same Templar was a cop, but no matter what he did, the person remained in full armor.

"Ok then, tell me what happened to your shoulder?"

Desmond sighed. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Just answer the question."

"It got cut, ok?"

"Cut with what?"

He looked down at his cuffed wrists.

"Well?"

He glared up. "I was racing a friend when I tripped and landed on a branch. It cut my shoulder. Happy now?"

The knight barked something, but Desmond didn't understand a word of it.

"Aren't you going to answer?"

Desmond scoffed.

"What?"

"Nothing," he muttered.

The cop leaned down on the table and glared at him. "Don't start an attitude, boy. You attacked two cops, nearly killing one multiple times. I'd advise you to cooperate and answer his question."

"Well it'd help if I understood him," Desmond snapped back before he could even stop himself.

The older man frowned and stood back up, watching him as the Templar repeated what he said.

Desmond rolled his eyes and glared at the knight. "Look, seriously, I. Don't. Understand. You." He looked back at the cop. "And how the hell can you see him too?"

His frown deepened and he glanced at the knight, who merely shrugged. The interrogator walked over to the man in the corner and muttered something into his ear. The knight nodded and walked out of the room quieter than what his full body chainmail should've allowed.

Desmond leaned forward and rubbed his face. "God, this is fucking insane."

"Mind telling me what you're on?"

He glanced through his fingers at the cop. "Say what?"

"What drugs are you on?"

"Nothing. Not even Tylenol, which would be really nice right now because of my shoulder throbbing. I don't suppose you have any on you, do you?" he replied sarcastically.

"No," the man replied tersely.

The door opened again and the knight rejoined them, followed by Vidic.

"Oh shit. You've got to be kidding me! What the hell are you doing here?"

Vidic frowned, confused. "Do we know each other?"

Desmond groaned and buried his face in his hands again. "Not another fucking illusion."

The three men frowned at each other and Vidic quietly walked behind Desmond and slipped the needle into his neck. He shot up and went to swat it away, but his cuffs were connected to the table. The man pulled the syringe out and he saw it was empty.

"What the hell did you just give me?" he shouted.

"Just a simple tranquilizer."

He felt the medicine kicking in and fought against it. "For what?"

"So we can take you somewhere safer."

His head bobbed and the pain in his shoulder was slowly lessening. "Ha…safe…right."

...

Slamming penetrated his groggy mind. Desmond slowly came back to the land of the conscious. More slamming resounded farther off. He rolled stiffly onto his side and rubbed his eyes, or tried to. Panic jolted him completely awake and he tried moving his arms away from his body. They wouldn't budge. He worriedly looked down, only to see them safely wrapped up in a straight jacket. Desmond panicked again and looked around. The room was dimly lit and padded in white. The door directly across from him had a small window that looked out into a bright hallway. The slamming echoed again from out there.

"Hello?" he called out.

No one responded.

He pulled at his restraints, even tried to lift his arms above his head, but both his wounded shoulder and the ties didn't allow for much movement at all.

"Hello," he hollered again. It barely echoed back in the room.

The outside noise repeated itself, but sounded closer now.

"Hey, is someone out there?"

A head appeared in the window. Keys clanked against his door and it swung open, revealing a burly, middle aged man in white.

"Glad to see you're finally awake," he smiled.

"Where am I?"

"You're in Grand View Mental Hospital," he calmly replied.

"Mental hospital! I'm not insane! At least not yet. Look, just let me go."

The man chuckled and grabbed a plastic cup full of meds off the tray beside him. "I'm sorry son, but I can't do that. The only way to leave is if the Doc checks you out."

"Doc? As in Vidic? He's never going to let me out. Seriously, just untie me and I'll get out of your hair."

The nurse walked in with a gentle smile. "I told you, I can't. Now, take these and you'll feel much better." He held out the cup with three innocent little pills in it.

"I'm not taking those. I told you, I'm not crazy!"

"We can do this the easy way, or the hard way," he gently reprimanded.

A Templar stepped into the doorway. Desmond glared and backed into a corner. The nurse looked over his shoulder at where Desmond was staring.

"There's nothing wrong with ol' Joe. He's just here to help me just in case something goes wrong."

Desmond stared at him. The man could see the Templar too. That either meant the nurse was an illusion as well, or he was a Templar himself.

"Now, just swallow these, please." The man inched calmly closer.

Desmond pressed back harder against the soft wall, his mouth clenched shut.

The man sighed and straightened up with a look back at the knight. Metal from the chainmail dully echoed in the empty room as he walked towards Desmond. When he got close enough, Desmond shot his foot out and tripped the man. He landed hard on his side, and the nurse lunged for Desmond, but was too slow.

He ran out the door, sliding past the cart, and darted down the hall. It's white walls and fluorescent lights rhythmically flew past. An alarm started screaming throughout the building. Desmond cursed and put on more speed. The end neared and he rounded a corner. An elevator door and an emergency stairwell were on either side of the hall. Ezio stood by the stairwell door.

"Desmond. Hurry!"

He lunged at the door bar, ignoring the warning about an alarm sounding if opened, and pressed his body into it. It screeched out the aforesaid alarm as they shot into the stairwell.

"Up here."

Desmond looked up a flight at Altaїr leaning over the railing. He lurched up the metal stairs with Ezio hot on his heels.

After two flights passed, they heard the echoing report of more feet starting up behind them.

"Quicker, boy." Altaїr snapped.

Desmond tried to put on more speed, but stumbled. Ezio grabbed him to rebalance him and he took off again. All he saw ahead of him was the flying tails of Altaїr's robe.

The final landing leveled out to the Roof Access Only door. Altaїr stood at the railing with a throwing knife poised. Desmond and Ezio shot by and out the door into the cool night.

"We've prepared a hay stack," Ezio said as he ran by.

Desmond followed and pulled up at the edge of the building. The hay pile was eight floors down.

"You've got to be kidding me," he looked back at his ancestors.

"No time to argue. Jump!" Altaїr demanded and rammed into him.

Desmond felt the air fly past him and tried to correct his landing. With his arms bound, it was a difficult task.

The rough reeds barely softened his landing as he landed on his left shoulder. Pain shot through his arm and he barely remembered letting out a scream as the agony slipped him into unconsciousness.

...

"Desmond. Desmond, damn it, wake up!"

"Rachel will get here in a couple minutes."

"His pulse is normal."

"Wait, I think he's coming around."

He felt the world slowly coming back in the form of a piercing headache. Gritting his teeth, he opened his eyes slowly and three shadows blocked out the overhead lights for him.

"Do you think he'll be blind?"

"Shaun!"

One of the shadows retreated, letting light through.

"What? Just a question."

"What the…" Desmond gasped as the headache pulsed. "Guys?" He blinked and opened his eyes further.

Lucy, Rebecca, and Shaun all leaned over him. The girls smiled in relief.

"Hey, just lie still. You hit your head pretty hard," Lucy said.

He slowly rubbed his face.

"Hit my head? What? Where am I?"

They all frowned slightly.

"You don't remember?" Lucy asked, worried.

Desmond let his hand fall back and frowned. "Remember?" He paused, thinking. "The last thing I knew…I was in a mental hospital. How'd you guys get here?"

Shaun snorted and Rebecca shot him another glare.

"Mental hospital? What'd you eat? No, you moron, we're still at the warehouse," the historian remarked.

"What!" Desmond shot up. He instantly regretted doing so and clutched his head.

Hands gently held him up by his shoulders.

"I told you to lie still," Lucy scolded.

He ignored her and peered around the pain at their surroundings. Sure enough, the crates from the warehouse lined the large room.

"How…What the hell happened?"

"You fell, and hit your head pretty hard," Lucy replied.

"A friend's coming to check up on you. You were out for at least five minutes," Rebecca remarked.

"Fell?" he questioned, looking up.

"Yes, as in losing your balance and taking a tumble from great heights. What else did you think she meant?" Shaun remarked. "And here you were complaining about this obstacle course being child's play just a few minutes ago."

He stared around them, looking for any sign.

"What? What are you looking for?" Rebecca asked, looking around too.

He smiled, then laughed. The others stared at him.

"I think something must've popped loose when he hit his head," Shaun stated. "Either that, or he's gone insane."

That made Desmond laugh harder which in turn caused his head to throb. His laughter turned into a groan as he gripped his sore noggin. "No, not insane," he replied, smiling grimly up at them. "Just a bad dream is all."

They still stared at him strangely.

"Hello?" a woman called out.

"Ah, Rachel! Over here," Rebecca hollered.

"Ow, hey, tone it down a bit," Desmond snapped.

"Oh, sorry."

A petite woman hustled over and knelt by them. "I thought you said he hit his head and was unconscious?" She pulled latex gloves out of her bag and snapped them on, then situated herself behind him and slowly examined his head.

"He did, but the idiot sat up before we could stop him. Although, I don't think you'll find the damage outside more as inside," Shaun remarked before the others could stop him.

Rachel paused and raised her eyebrows at the others.

Lucy looked back at him. "Desmond, do you see any hallucinations? Anything at all?"

He looked around slowly to keep from jostling his head too much. "Nope, not even a horse."

"Nothing?"

"Nope."

He felt Rachel resume moving his hair around to get a better look at his head. "Well, I still want to take you to the hospital for some scans just in case anything did happen. How far up did he fall from?"

Rebecca pointed at the top of the nearby crate stack.

"Yup, you're coming with me to the hospital," she stated firmly and stood up. "Think you can stand?"

Desmond nudged both Rebecca's and Lucy's hands off of his shoulders and slowly, unsteadily stood up. He was half expecting a snide remark from Ezio or Altaїr, but none came and he breathed a sigh of relief as he stood up at full height. He teetered as his visions swam and Rebecca and Lucy hastily grabbed his elbows.

"Does this count as standing?" he asked the doc.

She snapped the slightly bloody gloves off her hands. "Good enough. Help him to my car."

"Shaun, you're staying here. Call either of us if anything happens," Lucy ordered.

"Why do I have to stay behind?"

They ignored him as the girls helped Desmond walk to the door. With each step, his strength quickly returned and by the time they reached the car, both of them barely held onto him.

Rebecca slipped into the passenger seat and Lucy slipped in beside Desmond to keep an eye on him. Rachel hit the gas and the motion instantly made him sick. He took a deep, calming breath. Lucy watched him like a hawk.

Eventually, she glanced away and Desmond took the chance to check his left shoulder. It hadn't been hurting him since he woke up. He pulled the hoodie away a bit and glanced down. Perfectly smooth skin. There was no blood, no scar, no nothing that implied where the Templar had cut him.

He smiled again and closed his eyes tiredly.

There was no ancestor annoying him. No guards walking through the middle of a modern day city. No hallucinations.

It had all been just one fucked up nightmare.

Desmond smiled in relief again and slowly slipped back to sleep.

* * *

Ahhh, I can hear the ever so loving "wtf"s from here ^_^ lmao Now, to answer any questions there may be:

Nightmares sometimes (or generally, depending on the dreamer) come from our fears. I bet Desmond is slightly afraid of going insane - the hallucinations being the main clue to the going insane part. But the thing is, our nightmares like to take creative license and go wild. For instance, one of my nightmares I vividly remember is being chased through beautiful, green, rolling hills countryside...and being chased by a tar truck =_= How fucked up is that? lmao No, I'm not afraid of tar trucks. I have no clue why a tar truck, but that's besides the point lmao So yup, this whole entire story from start until when Desmond came slowly back to reality with a splitting headache was all a dream.

Yes, I planned on ending this story this way. No, I didn't plan on ending it this fast. I had at least another chapter or two to work with, but they just didn't come out lmao And Rachel is an OC I threw in just for the sake of the story.

Now, bring on the "wtf"s!! lmao And yes I have another AC story in mind (no not a sequel), but I don't have time to work on it. College sucks DX lol stupid homework


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